


teach me?

by siempre_musica



Category: Soy Luna (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fine Arts School AU, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27025552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siempre_musica/pseuds/siempre_musica
Summary: This is an AU in which Simón and Ámbar are both students at a fine arts school. Simón is studying composition, and Ámbar is studying dance. They’ve gotten to know each other rather well, but nothing has transpired between them except tension you could cut with a knife. Simón has a penchant for going off to explore the city, often to find inspiration for his music. Finally, after he has asked her many times, Ámbar caves and decides to accompany him. as they’re walking through the park, inspiration strikes...
Relationships: Simón Álvarez/Ámbar Smith, Ámbar Smith/Simón Álvarez
Kudos: 7





	teach me?

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I’m hoping to translate this into Spanish at some point when I have the time (Spanish is my second language, so it’ll take some time). This fic is ripped straight from a fic I wrote for another fandom, which was ripped straight from a one-shot I wrote with some of my ocs. So do I have a type? Yes. Be sure to read the summary!

Suddenly, Simón's eyes light up. He turns on his heel and positions his hands as if he was looking through a viewfinder.  
“What…” Ámbar starts, before deciding it best to just let it happen. After a moment, he’s standing underneath one of the streetlamps, smiling coyly for a moment before taking a bow.  
“It's a spotlight,” she offers, forcing an incredulous look to try and hide the smile that would betray her amusement. He extends his arm in a gesture that invites her to join him there, in his sliver of light within the darkness. _How fitting_ , she thinks, before shaking her head instinctually, as if to disperse the thoughts from her awareness.  
“Come on… I haven’t seen all of the dance you’re working on yet. Is it finished?”  
“Is your song finished?” Ámbar quips, really smiling this time. At any rate, she does enjoy messing with him. Simón frowns, an exaggerated one, and she moves closer, half of her face now illuminated by the beam of light.  
“Fine, teach me then.”  
“What?”  
“Teach me how to dance!” she can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his request. She's seen the way he moves around the apartment, tripping over things that aren’t there and running into anything that sticks out. She’d be surprised if he could manage even the simplest of steps. Still, there’s something in his eyes that makes her want to say yes.  
“How much do you know about dance?” she asks as a formality. She knows the answer.  
“Absolutely nothing”. She sighs at this, crossing her arms. “Good thing I have the best teacher!” He looks at her expectantly, but she ignores him. She’s grown used to his way of always having something to say that should make her blush. It’s disgusting, really. She considers what the most straightforward thing she can teach him without being outright insulting might be, and her first instinct is the waltz. She almost recoils physically at the thought alone, but chides herself. It doesn’t have to mean anything if she doesn’t want it too.  
First, she demonstrates the box step pattern. “Forward-side-together, backwards-side-together,” she repeats as she watches him practice. Good enough. She places his right hand on the small of her back and takes his other hand in her right. Just the ballroom hold, she thinks, and to his credit, Simón doesn’t seem to react.  
They start off slowly, and for a moment, Ámbar thinks that he just might have a chance after all. His eyebrows are knitted together, and his mouth is turned up slightly on one end, a sure sign that he’s concentrating with all his will. However, when she makes the mistake of picking up the pace, whatever rhythm he’s got going in his head skips a beat, and he runs straight into her. Small as she is, the force of it knocks her off her feet. Simón stares down, horrified, before coming to his senses and quickly offering his hand. Ámbar lets him pull her to her feet, putting on a stern expression just to torture him for a moment before letting her laughter go.  
“You’re the worst,” she says, smiling as he finally relaxes. “We can try again.” They slowly get back to their rhythm, and she can hear him counting under his breath. As she gradually pushes the tempo, he holds on tighter. For some reason, she doesn’t pull away.  
“How do you do it?” Simón suddenly blurts out.  
“What?”  
“Dance the way you do?” Ámbar considers this.  
“Practice?” she knows he’s not satisfied with this answer. “I think it’s like any art form. Your emotions guide the movement. You tell a story.” Ámbar thinks about all the times she’s overheard Simón piecing together a melody, words flowing out of him like he has some sort of divine inspiration. It’s true: she listens a great deal more than she’ll ever let on. “Maybe that’s how you write your music?” Simón takes a deep breath.  
“Yes,” he agrees softly. “I do like to tell a story.”  
“So what about the one you’re working on now?” She looks up to see that his gaze holds a new intensity. It’s then that Ámbar realizes they’ve stopped dancing. She tries not to look away.  
“Well… it’s… it’s…” she can see a decision being made in his eyes.  
“Simón…”  
“It’s inspired by you”. She blinks, then studies him for a second. _Screw it_. Grabbing the collar of his flannel, she closes the distance between them.


End file.
